MNESILOCHUS. "Ah! how you have delayed coming to your wife's arms! Press me to your heart, throw your arms about me, for I wish to cover you with kisses. Carry me away, carry me away, quick, quick, far, very far from here." SEVENTH WOMAN. By the goddesses, woe to him who would carry you away! I should thrash him with my torch. EURIPIDES. "Do you propose to prevent me from taking my wife, the daughter of Tyndareus, to Sparta?" SEVENTH WOMAN You seem to me to be a cunning rascal too; you are in collusion with this man, and 'twas not for nothing that you kept babbling about Egypt. But the hour for punishment has come; here is the magistrate come with his archer. EURIPIDES. This grows awkward. Let me hide myself. MNESILOCHUS. And what is to become of me, poor unfortunate man? EURIPIDES. Be at ease. I shall never abandon you, as long as I draw breath and one of my numberless artifices remains untried. MNESILOCHUS. The fish has not bitten this time. THE PRYTANIS. Is this the rascal of whom Clisthenes told us? Why are you trying to make yourself so small? Archer, arrest him, fasten him to the post, then take up your position there and keep guard over him. Let none approach him. A sound lash with your whip for him who attempts to break the order. SEVENTH WOMAN. Excellent, for just now a rogue almost took him from me. MNESILOCHUS. Prytanis, in the name of that hand which you know so well how to bend, when money is placed in it, grant me a slight favour before I die. PRYTANIS. What favour? MNESILOCHUS. Order the archer to strip me before lashing me to the post; the crows, when they make their meal on the poor old man, would laugh too much at this robe and head-dress. PRYTANIS. 'Tis in that gear that you must be exposed by order of the Senate, so that your crime may be patent to the passers-by. MNESILOCHUS. Oh! cursed robe, the cause of all my misfortune! My last hope is thus destroyed! CHORUS. Let us now devote ourselves to the sports which the women are accustomed to celebrate here, when time has again brought round the mighty Mysteries of the great goddesses, the sacred days which Pauson[634] himself honours by fasting and would wish feast to succeed feast, that he might keep them all holy. Spring forward with a light step, whirling in mazy circles; let your hands interlace, let the eager and rapid dancers sway to the music and glance on every side as they move. Let the chorus sing likewise and praise the Olympian gods in their pious transport. 'Tis wrong to suppose that, because I am a woman and in this Temple, I am going to speak ill of men; but since we want something fresh, we are going through the rhythmic steps of the round dance for the first time.